THE CHEERY GLOW OF the candles and the shouts of the boys playing Rabbit Flash were gone by the time Hal and Bailey returned to the Towers common room. The last cracklings of a fire still spat in the grate. The two boys collapsed into armchairs, and Hal covered his face with one hand.

“Nature’s eyes, Bailey,” he said. “What are we going to tell Tremelo?”

Bailey shook his head numbly; he didn’t understand what he’d just seen.

“We have to talk to Tori first,” he said. “We don’t know what she was doing there.”

“Wasn’t it obvious?” said Hal, gesturing to the door and beyond, toward the library and its basement study room. “Her boyfriend’s a card-carrying Dominae! ‘Looove’ has blinded her! She’s not our friend anymore. I don’t even know who she is.”

“She’s still our friend,” said Bailey firmly. But he felt a little sick to his stomach, thinking of the mouse. Evan’s cries echoed in his mind. And Tori had just sat there the entire time, with that strange, vacant look in her eyes. What had she been thinking?

“She knows everything, about you and about Sucrette. Let’s not forget that,” Hal continued. “How do we know she hasn’t told Lyle something that could get you killed?”

“There’s no way she’s buying into that Dominae stuff,” Bailey answered. But he couldn’t think clearly, and hearing Hal’s argument made him feel uneasy. Tori had defended them, had fought by their side—but he had to admit, there was a lot about her that he didn’t know.

A slinking movement down on the floor caught Bailey’s eye. Something slithered along the floorboard—he rushed to grab it. A small black snake writhed in his hand.

“Hey!” said Hal.

Bailey, keeping hold of the snake, walked over to the door of the common room and opened it. Tori leaned against the wall of the hallway, her arms crossed and her eyes piercing.

“How long have you been listening?” he asked her.

“How long have you been following me around?” she countered.

“We weren’t,” Bailey lied.

“Like ants, you weren’t,” said Tori, storming into the room. “You two are about as covert as a rhino. I wanted to die right there in that study room from embarrassment.”

Bailey and Hal both straightened their shoulders defensively.

“You knew we were there?” asked Bailey.

“The snakes knew, the second you crawled into the room,” she said. She held out her hand for the black snake. After plopping into her palm, it disappeared inside the cuff of her sleeve.

“Did you rat us out to your new friend Lyle?” asked Hal.

“No,” snapped Tori. “And the reason I haven’t is because I’m doing the same thing you are—except I’m better at it. I’m spying on him.” She paused, eyeing the boys’ shocked expressions.

“You’re spying on Lyle?” Bailey asked. “We thought you liked him!”

Tori rolled her eyes.

“He’s not actually that bad—for a Dominae-loving freak,” she said. “He just doesn’t realize what he’s doing. His father is a high-level tinkerer for Viviana—that blueprint Tremelo copied was his! He sends Lyle old prototypes like they’re toys! I had to check it out. Science Club is just Lyle’s excuse to show off, and the perfect way for us to get more information about Viviana’s Reckoning! What do you think that Catalyst machine is for?”

“But why didn’t you tell us you were spying on him?” asked Hal.

Tori went quiet for a moment, and shrugged.

“It felt nice to have my own mission, for once. I was going to tell you once I’d seen the orb, but I wanted to be sure first.”

Bailey believed her, but he was bothered by her insistence that Lyle wasn’t “that bad.”

“I don’t understand how you can stand being near him—after that poor mouse,” Hal said, adjusting his glasses, the better to glare at her.

“He felt terrible about that!”

“You mean the fact that someone’s kin was murdered?” Bailey said, not bothering to hide the sting from his voice. What he’d seen in that basement made him seethe. Whatever Lyle was playing with, it was dangerous. “You don’t even know what happened afterward.” But Bailey wasn’t sure that he knew what had happened—had the mouse come back to life? Lyle had seemed just as surprised as they had been, and had quickly dropped the orb, causing it to clang on the stone floor. Then he’d wrapped it in its black fabric and hurried out of the room, leaving the dead mouse behind.

“He has no idea what he’s even doing,” Tori said.

“That’s for sure,” breathed Hal.

“I’m not defending him—but he’s just some kid playing around.”

“But he sides with the Dominae!” said Bailey. “You’ve seen the things they do. What if he’s working with them?”

“I’ve been watching him closely,” said Tori. “He doesn’t know anything about the prophecies or the Child of War. It’s his dad I’d worry about—he’s the one who’s gotten Lyle into all this stuff.”

“Tori, this is dangerous!” Bailey said.

“You’re right,” said Tori. As she spoke, the small black snake emerged from her collar and settled around her neck. “And that’s why you have to trust me. Lyle can’t know, or even suspect, that I’m not his happy little Science partner. And if you two are always sneaking around, we’ll only get caught. One thing’s for sure, though: we’ll need to tell Tremelo about the Catalyst first thing tomorrow.”

Bailey went to bed that night somewhat relieved—he knew Tori wasn’t a traitor. But his imagination raced when he thought about Lyle and his orb. It had to be the missing piece from Viviana’s Reckoning machine. And now that he’d seen what Lyle had been able to do with it, he knew that Viviana was planning something terrifying. Her power, fed through that orb, could control countless animals. He wondered what Tremelo would say when they told him in the morning—hopefully, that he knew how they could stop it from happening.

Bailey couldn’t sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the shuddering right paw of the dead mouse, and Lyle’s shocked face above it. But finally, after what felt like hours, he drifted into dreams.

He woke to the sensation of rough hands holding his chest down, trapping him against his bed. He felt a heavy, cold metal around his neck—choking him. He cried out, but the metal chain tightened as he kicked and flailed. Total darkness cloaked him, hiding his vision. He opened his mouth, bared his teeth, and roared.

Then Bailey sat up in bed. His heart raced. He was sure someone was here, in his room, and had tried to tie him down. He tossed his covers off. There were no chains on him, and no one else in the room but Hal, asleep. But it had been no dream—he’d felt the heavy, cold chain squeezing around his neck. And even how, sitting up in bed, he felt the strange sensation of being pressed to the ground. He could hardly breathe. Taleth was in danger. Someone had taken her, someone who meant them both harm.

All of Tremelo’s advice about lying low left his head like dried leaves in a harsh wind. He hurried to put on a pair of pants and his boots, and left Hal snoring behind him. He rushed down the front stairs of the Towers, not caring who heard or saw.

He knew he couldn’t rescue Taleth alone. He needed help, immediately. He ran to Tremelo’s quarters.

The night was bitterly cold; Bailey could see his breath streaming from his nose and mouth. A light shone from Tremelo’s sitting room window. Bailey ran to the door of the carriage house and rushed up the narrow wooden stairs. He stopped, out of breath, on the landing and pounded on the apartment door.

“Tremelo! Tremelo, I need your help!”

There was no answer from inside, though Bailey could smell myrgwood smoke. He stopped knocking and cried out as a fresh pain overtook him: he felt heavy sticks pummeling his sides and legs. His vision swam, and he could almost see the shapes of two tall men standing over him, kicking him—but they weren’t there, not in the hall outside Tremelo’s door. They were standing over Taleth, subduing her. Bailey felt the pain of welts forming on his sides and back. Catching his breath, he called out again to Tremelo. When he didn’t hear an answer, he leaned heavily on the latch and thrust his whole weight onto the door, breaking the flimsy lock. The door swung open.

Tremelo was not there.

On its side, on top of a porcelain dish speckled with ash, was Tremelo’s myrgwood pipe.

“Sir?” Bailey said to no one. He collapsed against the closest bookshelf, doubling over in pain as another blow struck Taleth’s flank. He looked around the apartment, hoping that Tremelo would emerge from behind a doorway—but the apartment was empty. Taleth needed them. “Where are you?” he wondered out loud, but whether he meant Taleth or Tremelo, even he wasn’t sure.

He felt a strong hand on his back, and straightened up, terrified.

In the doorway stood Dr. Graves.

“Now, Mr. Walker,” he said. “What do you know of the Child of War?”